


Just A Sickfic

by MonsterInDaBerth



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predators (2010)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Caretaking, Couch Cuddles, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Interspecies Relationship(s), Language Barrier, M/M, Non-Gender Specific Characters, Sickfic, Teratophilia, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterInDaBerth/pseuds/MonsterInDaBerth
Summary: Instead of sleeping off my own sickness I spent a good 2 hours writing this at like 2am so here ya go.You woke up sick and miserable. Nothing you couldn't handle. Now a giant, confused alien, that you couldn't handle. Best to just explain what you can and go with the flow.





	Just A Sickfic

**Author's Note:**

> I gave the Yaujta they/them pronouns to keep their sex neutral. I rarely see any readerxfemale predators stuff so this was an easy way of handling that. (although idk if i'd read them anyways if people gave them tits) I also kept the reader gender neutral too, cuz everyone should have the chance to insert themselves in the story to kiss a big hot alien~

"Achoo!"

You ended your violent sneeze would a loud groan as you turn unto your front on your bed.

You just _had_ to get sick when you finally had a week off from work. Great.

Your whole body ached as you struggled to sit up, trying to see if the sun was even up.

"Oh, God," you muttered, trying to hold in another sneeze until you find a box of tissues.

After some fumbling with your clothes for about 10 minutes thanks to your unbelievably sore muscles you waddled your way over to your tiny kitchen.

"Please, let there be food in here," you begged to no one, you couldn't remember what you ate yesterday so the thought of having to go shopping in your state made you feel even worse.

You swung the fridge door open and groaned as you surveyed what little food you had.

Week old Chinese food, a lone, overripe banana, and half a milk carton. You raided your cabinets, comically tossing out expired food in the process.

_God, I could've gotten all of this sorted out if I wasn't fucking—_

You sneezed again and lost your balance.

Instead of your skull making contact with the cold floor you hit a wall of hot muscle.

In your delirium you slowly looked up to see the alien you had been . . . well, _seeing_ for the past few months. At least that was the impression you got from the various gifts you got and cuddle sessions.

"Ah, Dreads!" You greeted them with as much enthusiasm as a wet sock.

The name you bestowed on them came from the tendrils on the back of their head. While they felt like anything but the name just seemed to stick. They clicked their own greeting back and steadied you on your feet.

Dreads clicked some more, low and short. With their head tilted slightly you assumed they were asking something.

This is what most of your conversations consisted of. A whole guessing game due to the language barrier, moreso on your side however. They could understand a few phrases here and there but whatever they were thinking or feeling was a complete mystery to you unless it was painfully obvious.

You didn't question why they were in your house. Granted, the first few times you had a heart attack and the fact that they could become invisible didn't help either. But after a few weeks the low growls and a shimmer in the corner of your eye didn't make your pulse race out of fear.

"What—?" You quipped your lip up in frustrating before choosing something that might be what they're talking about.

"The kitchen?" You motioned to the scene behind you.

They nodded, showing how much more adaptable they were than you. In a way it irritated you but in a playful way. You had no room to talk considering learning a second language from your own planet was a hassle in high school.

"Ah, well, I'm kinda, well, alot sick and I have nothing edible in my goddamn hou—" You were cut off by a violent coughing fit, instinctively grabbing unto your alien bae's hand. They just looked at you, head tilted again. Even with their mask on you knew they were confused, maybe even concerned.

"Ugh, I'm dying,' you grumbled, looking for the nearest trashcan to spit in.

Apparently those were the wrong choice of words as your guest let out too many clicks for you to even attempt to comprehend.

They gripped your shoulders almost too hard in their haste and made more rambling clicks.

"Ah—! Re-really?! You understood _that_?!" You rolled your eyes as it was just your luck, but gently put your hands on theirs.

They loosened their grip as you calmed them down by rubbing small circles on their coarse skin. It was hot and warm too. You shook your head, you need to explain before attempting to use their body like a hot water bottle.

"Figure of speech, I'm not dying," you said, trying to focus on their mask so your eyes didn't somehow go cross-eyed. You looked up a general explanation on your phone as fast as you could so you could sit down.

While they didn't have a translator for verbal communication they could pick out words they had their own to translate and get a general idea. Most of them pertained to learning about human culture and not conversations, mostly because it irked you that there was no understanding those clicks.

All you had was _growl equals mad_ and _purr equals happy_.

They read the article quickly, another skill you wished you had.

"You get it?" You asked, rubbing your thighs to try and lessen the aches.

Dreads nodded, delicately handing back your phone. After the incident with your last one and a week of no cuddles they made a better effort to avoid breaking your stuff.

"So, I'm not dying, just sick as a dog," you muttered. Oh, God, the migraine was getting worse.

They let out a couple of slow clicks, expressing their dislike to your current state.

"Yeah, I don't like being sick either, I just gotta eat, drink water, and sleep," you listed off. You pulled your legs up to your chest when a chill ran up your spine. You were conflicted as to what to turn the thermostat to.

_Was it feed a cold and starve a fever? Or feed a fever and starve a cold?_ You didn't have the energy to look it up, especially since you have both body aches, a temperature, and sneezing and coughing like a madman. Well, a sick man in this case.

While you had a conversation inside your head you didn't notice the large alien rummaging through your kitchen, as if they were looking for something.

"All I have is ibuprofen, nothing for my sick ass," you called out, not knowing what they were actually doing.

Dreads took light steps back towards you in fetal position on the couch, holding out a whole orange.

You stifled a giggle. Just how much did they read? But you weren't about to question an extraterrestrial caring about your well-being.

It was too cute.

"Aw, thank you," you squeaked out before sneezing again. You sure as hell weren't going to go through the trials and tribulations to peel the orange to just not eat the gross white parts.

You set it aside. "Um, I'm not gonna force you to stay here while I'm sick and too tired to do anything, so if you wanna leave you can," you said, feeling shorter since you had to look straight up to maintain eye contact. You wanted to give them an out for the next few days, you've taken care of a sick person before and it could be very draining. Especially if they were the whiny, demanding type.

They let out a growl. Okay, it looked like they were staying.

"Okay, then, but no kissing shit, my mouth is gross," you teased, making them huff.

Speaking of a gross mouth, you smacked your lips and got up to get a big glass of water to chug down while watching something on TV.

As a groan left your mouth a large hand easily pushed you back until the couch.

"What?" You whined. Another surge of muscle pain went up your body and you groaned again, clutching your stomach.

They pointed to you as if saying, "That's why." You narrowed your eyes.

"You don't like my noises?" You were the one tilting your head in confusion this time.

They nodded.

You could understand where they were coming from. You've never made noises like this before in front of them. Especially since you sounded like a dying animal when things really hurt.

"You, uh, want me to stop?" You asked politely. It wasn't like you could just stop, since yelling out curses and moans lessened the pain. At least mentally.

They didn't move and clicked some more. They pointed to the kitchen.

"Oh, uh, water!" You made the motion with your hand.

You watched with a smile on our face as they fumbled in the cabinet for a cup, having seen you drink out of them before. They wisely chose a non-glass cup and filled it to the brim with water from the tap.

How they brought it over to you without spilling a drop just cemented them as light-years more skillful than you.

You guzzled as much as you could before needing to breathe and set it down on your coffee table.

Now onto the food situation.

"Um," you paused. How the hell were you supposed to tell them to go out and get some food? Ordering groceries to your home was extremely expensive and if you had to you'd rather down the Chinese food that might make you feel even worse.

A light bulb went off. "Duh!" You picked up your phone and called a close friend to pick up some stuff.

After promising to pay them back after being told you didn't need to you hung up and turned on the TV to whatever was on.

It was only after about 39 minutes in did you realize your alien guest wasn't anywhere near you. 

"Dreads?" You called out weakly. No answer. 

"I hate it when they do this shit," you grumbled, looking around aimlessly.

Hopefully, they weren't wreaking havoc somewhere. It wasn't like you could do anything anyways.

()()()()

When the doorbell rang you nearly hopped up out of your seat, making your way slowly to the door.

Your friend came in and set the groceries down on the counter. You both chatted for a bit before they had to run off and do the rest of their errands.

After telling each other to text each other later on in the day they drove off and you got to work making something akin to food.

You decided to take some medicine first. The best thing for getting better was to be unconscious. 

The sickness took its toll on your motor skills and you couldn't bring yourself to do anything that had to do with measuring shit. Something that just had to be heated up sounded good. You grabbed the oatmeal and began cooking it on your stove. 

The opening and closing of your sliding back door didn't alarm you but the smell pomegranates did.

You turned to see Dreads shutting down their invisibility gadget, with an armful of fruits and veggies, some smushed from the travel to your home.

"Uh, what did you do?" You asked calmly, still stirring the oatmeal slowly. The thought of a random produce grower freaking out about their harvest mysteriously disappearing was fucking hilarious but you knew better than to reward this type of behavior. 

They clicked and presented their hoard to you, dropping them unto the counter victoriously.

Maybe letting them read that article was a bad idea. 

You could've sworn you had a conversation about this, albeit a very one-sided one. A conversation concerning their habit of listening in on your phone conversations. Either there was no such thing as privacy on their planet or they just liked to take matters in their own hands.

You begrudgingly accepted their stolen gift with a nod and a sound of praise. Mostly to avoid saddening them like the time the gift was their kill from another planet. Which would've been fine had it not have bled acid and ruined your floor. 

"Thank you, Dreads, but let's stick to gifts that don't have to be paid for," you said. While gaining a hoard of priceless objects sounded like heaven the possibility of getting caught or Dreads being found out by the government shook you to the core. Luckily no one would be too alarmed about some fruit and cabbages. 

You didn't explain how peeling or cooking them sounded anything but appealing to you since you could barely handle stirring your breakfast.

Dreads seemed content with your reaction and didn't move. They had a bad habit of just standing around instead of sitting, unless the two of you were cuddled up on the couch or on your bed. 

You had another coughing fit, hacking up stuff and spitting it into your empty sink. "Ugh," you shuddered.

They came closer to you and affectionately placed their large hand on your back. You leaned into it, groaning happily as the pressure lessened the aches.

"Thanks, Dreads," you said, openly smiling at their gesture. They purred in response. Who knew the one alien species you came into contact with would love praise so much. You couldn't blame them though.

You added cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, and milk to your breakfast before taking them by the hand and leading them to the couch.

You were oddly touchy-feely even though you felt like total shit, maybe it was because you didn't need to worry about them getting sick by being near you.

They let you make them sit first since the thought of you on their lap made them purr lowly.

You had no complaints there and snuggled into their lap, blowing on your oatmeal so you could eat and pass out. You could feel the Robitussin kicking in.

While you watched your favorite show they had their eyes on you. They had no interest in tv, although the occasional novel here and there would be read quickly, so they focused on how soft your skin felt.

The pokes and prods at first irritated you and made you feel a bit self-conscious but after setting some boundaries over how to touch you they did their best to meet your standards.

They'd play with your hair, so different from their own. If you could call it that. They'd drag their claws over your exposed skin, not hard enough to scratch, but enough to press into your thin skin. They'd even go as far as to run their fingers through your hair, which sounded more romantic than it actually was when you forgot to brush out any tangles.

But the one thing they loved to touch was your face. They loved your eyebrows, obviously amused over how your hair also grows there. They loved your mouth, especially when you spoke highly of them.

And your eyes. God, they loved your eyes so much. 

Sometime they'd just stare deeply into them, making you wish you knew what they were thinking. The first time they did that you nervously looked around, as if you were being stared down like you were prey.

Now, though, you stared back with as much intensity they had, unless you were preoccupied. You didn't know if there was something significant about that in their culture, you made a mental note to ask soon.

Their adaptability didn't stop at just the language barrier as they copied things you'd do to them. The small pets and light touches were foreign to them at first, making them wish for more afterwards. Even moreso when you introduced them to kisses. Kisses on their skin, mask, it didn't matter. 

You wondered if you were the first one to do so, maybe it wasn't in their culture to be cuddly. Which was a pity because Dreads was _very_ good at it.

You set down your empty bowl and took another swig of water. You felt your eyelids getting heavier and settled in their lap.

Their high body temperature had you guessing whether or not you'd wake up sweating but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

You rumbled out a content sound from your chest which made them do the same.

Their mask was the last thing you saw before you passed out.

Maybe after you woke up you could get around to finally asking them to remove it.


End file.
